till; still alive, but her mind
is gone! I thought the sight would kill me."

The prudent magistrate, recognizing the gravity of the crisis through
which his friend was passing, refrained from asking questions or
exciting him further, and grew impatient of the length of the way to the
chateau, for the change wrought in the Colonel's face alarmed him. He
feared lest the Countess' terrible disease had communicated itself to
Philip's brain. When they reached the avenue at l'Isle-Adam, d'Albon
sent the servant for the local doctor, so that the Colonel had scarcely
been laid in bed before the surgeon was beside him.

"If Monsieur le Colonel had not been fasting, the shock must have killed
him," pronounced the leech. "He was over-tired, and that saved him," and
with a few directions as to the patient's treatment, he went to prepare
a composing draught himself. M. de Sucy was better the next morning, but
the doctor had insisted on sitting up all night with him.

"I confess, Monsieur le Marquis," the surgeon said, "that I feared for
the brain. M. de Sucy has had some very violent shock; he is a man of
strong passions, but, with his temperament, the first shock decides
everything. He will very likely be out of danger to-morrow."

The doctor was perfectly right. The next day the patient was allowed to
see his friend.

"I want you to do something for me, dear d'Albon," Philip said, grasping
his friend's hand. "Hasten at once to the Minorite convent, find out
everything about the lady whom we saw there, and come back as soon as
you can; I shall count the minutes till I see you again."

M. d'Albon called for his horse, and galloped over to the old monastery.
When he reached the gateway he found some one standing there, a tall,
spare man with a kindly face, who answered in the affirmative when he
was asked if he lived in the ruined house. M. d'Albon explained his
errand.

"Why, then, it must have been you, sir, who fired that unlucky shot! You
all but killed my poor invalid."

"Eh! I fired into the air!"

"If you had actually hit Madame la Comtesse, you would have done less
harm to her."

"Well, well, then, we can neither of us complain, for the sight of the
Countess all but killed my friend, M. de Sucy."

"The Baron de Sucy, is it possible?" cried the doctor, clasping his
hands. "Has he been in Russia? was he in the Beresina?"

"Yes," answered d'Albon. "He was taken prisoner by the Cossacks and sent
to Siberia. He has